


Untitled Gone With the Wind AU

by Shakespeares_Girl



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Civil War, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is Scarlett, Kris is Rhett, and they have the most unhealthy romantic relationship since Cathy and Heathcliff.  Potentially triggering for dub- and non-consensual sex, physical and emotional abuse, and various psychological issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Gone With the Wind AU

Adam stares in a combination of horror and lust at the ring Kris is offering him. “Oh my god, Kristopher, I—I mean, Mr. Allen—I couldn't possibly--”  
  
“Oh yes you could. Take the ring and say you'll marry me,” Kris orders. Adam's always envied him his inimitable calm in any situation. “Say yes or I'll tell Neil all about how you demanded the shiniest ring in creation before you'd even entertain my suit.”  
  
“Don't you dare!” Adam hisses, touching a finger to the ridiculous diamond in the center of the ring. “It'll be all over the state in less than an hour.”  
  
“If you don't want me to tell, say yes,” Kris counters. “Say yes, Adam Lambert-Bell-Cowell. God what a horrible name. You ought to marry me just so you can change it. Adam Lambert-Allen sounds much better.”  
  
“But I don't _want_ to be married again,” Adam pouts.  
  
“ That's because you never marry the right men,” Kris laughs. “Look at your last husband. He was an old man, sick even before you knew him. He may have made you rich, but he didn't have the first idea of how to make you happy. And your first husband was useless too. Bradley was poor and flighty and weak, and if he hadn't gotten sick on his way to fight, he would have ended up dead at your hands the first time he came home on leave. You two weren't meant to cohabitate.”  
  
“I suppose you think you _do_ have an idea of how to make me happy?” Adam sniffs.  
  
“ I have more than an idea, Adam,” Kris smirks. “But tell me you don't agree with me about your former husbands and I'll let the whole thing drop.”  
  
“You're right of course, you're always, maddeningly right,” Adam sighs. “But I don't see how you're any better fit to wed me than they were.”  
  
“For one thing, I'm neither wet-behind-the-ears nor over-the-hill,” Kris points out. “I'll buy you anything you ever want, spoil you rotten, let you get fat or starve yourself according to your whims. I won't ignore you, which is exactly what you hated most about both your former husbands—that they found you so easy to forget about. I'll keep you entertained and happy and sated. You won't lack for anything with me, Adam. And you won't have a care in the world.”  
  
“It sounds too good to be true,” Adam says bluntly, stiffening his spine and turning his head away from Kris and the engagement ring.  
  
“Very well, then. I'll have to resort to outright bribery,” Kris says, sounding delighted. “If you don't say yes, I won't let you have the rest of your presents.”  
  
“Oh, you brought me more presents?” Adam gasps, intrigued and flattered and put out that the presents aren't automatically his all at once. “You have to show me! I'll not say yes if I don't know what I'm saying yes to!”  
  
“But there's the catch,” Kris explains. “If you don't say yes, I won't show you.”  
  
“Unfair,” Adam whines, but he turns fully back to Kris and the diamond engagement ring. “Very well,” he finally allows. “I shall marry you.”  
  
“That's a yes?” Kris prods.  
  
“Yes! Yes, you horrible tease, yes,” Adam says exasperatedly. “Now show me!”  
  
“In a minute,” Kris grins, and takes the ring from it's velvet box. He takes Adam's hand in his own, and slides the ring onto Adam's finger. The ring is overwhelming, taking up most of the bottom section of his ring finger. His other rings had been plain gold, lightweight but weighing on him like a millstone. This ring is solid and heavy, the gold set with the largest diamond Adam's ever seen, half an inch square and princess cut, but it's the lightest ring he's ever had on his finger.  
  
“I adore it,” Adam says softly, and Kris smiles at him. Then he whistles through his teeth, making Adam jump.  
  
“These are your other presents,” Kris announces, and Miss Paula's servants parade through the living room carrying hatboxes and shoes and yards of fabric and laying them out at Adam's feet.  
  
“Oh, Kris! What's in that box?” Adam points to a square box, the plainest of them all.  
  
“Open it and see,” Kris teases.  
  
Adam snatches up the package, and his heart gives a lurch when he realizes-- “Oh! There's something alive inside!” He tosses away the lid and the most adorable puppy pushes its head out of the box. “Kris!” Adam shrieks.  
  
“Open the rest, too,” Kris reminds him. Adam laughs and hands the puppy to Kris, then goes through the rest of the presents, exclaiming over the prettiest pair of shoes, with buttons running up nearly to Adam's knee, and blushing at the silk kimono. “Just for the bedroom,” Kris promises. “You'll only wear it for me.” There are also corsets and curve-hugging suits, wide-legged pantsuits cut to look like ladies riding habits, and Adam is torn between declaring them perfect and insisting he'll never be seen in something so feminine in public. He voices neither opinion, knowing one is a lie.  
  
* * *  
  
The wedding is lavish and full of jokes at Adam's expense, which he takes with all the good humor he can muster. “Three times a bride, never a bridesmaid” is the least hurtful of the slurs tossed his way from drunken lips, and the only reason he makes it through the ceremony and reception afterward is because Kris stays at his side the whole time, whispering for him to hold his head up and show off the pink diamond pendant Kris bought especially for today, or mouthing sweet words of praise and adoration against Adam's neck when everyone's attention is elsewhere.  
  
Allison is there, of course, with David in tow, and Adam feels longing tug at his heart, longing and jealousy and a little bit of hatred that Allison gets what he wants more than anything. But Adam is rich and adored and pampered, and that makes up for a lot, so he speaks with Allison for longer than he has to, complimenting how thin she looks after the baby, and how her hoop-skirts accentuate her thin waist. He takes a moment with David, too.  
  
“Congratulations, Adam,” David says, smiling. “And to you as well, Mr. Allen.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Cook,” Kris nods back. “Tell me, what do you think of my husband?”  
  
David Cook looks Adam up and down and nods. “Quite fine. You've certainly turned him out well.”  
  
Adam flushes a little, knowing David doesn't mean it as an insult, but everyone else has been making pointed comments about his slim-waisted, well-fitted suit, saying things about how he looks so delicate in his bridal outfit, or how the color—a sedate ivory—makes him almost seem the innocent bride. They mean them as insults, slurs on his way of dress, his widowhood, and his virtue, not to mention his masculinity. He holds his head a little higher, the oriental cut of his collar showing off the pendant around his neck, and flashes his ring. David might not have meant it as an insult, but it felt like one all the same, and Adam is sick and tired of trying to avoid scandal.  
  
Once David and Allison are gone, Kris leans up and murmurs to Adam, “Say your goodbyes to your family and brother. We're leaving in fifteen minutes. I've waited long enough to get my hands on you, I'm not waiting another minute longer than I have to.”  
  
Adam thrills a little at the words, and hurriedly does as he's told, kissing his mother goodbye and bidding his brother and cousins goodnight before finding Kris once more, waiting for him by the door. He takes Kris' arm, and Kris helps him into the carriage, then gives the address of the best hotel in town and shuts the door behind him. He sits next to Adam, instead of across from him, as is proper, and Adam's heart leaps in his chest at the boldness of the move.  
  
“Now that I've finally got you to myself, do you know what I'm going to do to you?” Kris asks. Adam shakes his head mutely. “I'm going to kiss you,” Kris declares, and leans toward Adam.  
  
“Kris, no,” Adam protests, but Kris ignores him and slants his mouth across Adam's, sucking at his mouth and licking at the seam between his lips. Adam opens his mouth helplessly, letting himself be kissed. Kris pushes at Adam's shoulders, presses him down and over until he's lying across the seat of the carriage with Kris on top of him, mouths open and pressed against each other. Kris bites at the corner of Adam's mouth and Adam makes a sound he'll never admit to in public and arches up underneath Kris. “ _Kristopher_ ,” he moans, clinging to Kris' shoulders.  
  
“Didn't know it could be this way, did you?” Kris laughs, and Adam gets the distinct feeling he's being mocked. It doesn't matter though, because in the next moment Kris is kissing him again, and that's all that really matters.  
  
* * *  
  
Kris yanks the picture away from Adam, and throws it across the room. The frame shatters against the wall, and Adam flinches. “I'm sorry,” he says, not keeping the whine out of his voice.  
  
“Not yet, but you will be,” Kris growls, and the next thing Adam knows he's being flung toward his closet. He trips on his bare feet and falls against the chifferobe, smacking his elbow into the corner and yelping. Kris grabs him over the newly formed bruise and shoves him again, this time into his closet, the shelves and hangars lining the small room suddenly seeming ominous. Kris pushes past Adam and starts flinging his clothes around, muttering to himself until finally he flings a corset and a mass of silk toward Adam. “These,” he says. “You'll wear these.”  
  
“I—what?” Adam stammers. “You—you said I'd only wear this for _you_.”  
  
“ You are wearing it for me. I just want you to wear it in public this time,” Kris says with a nasty smile. “Get your maid to put it on you.”  
  
“No,” Adam refuses, stubborn and sulky. “I won't do it.”  
  
Kris rips the silk out of Adam's hands and tosses it onto the bed, then tears off Adam's robe. Adam's naked beneath, not even his drawers to cover him, and Kris laughs. “I do hope no one looks under your kimono, _dear_ , because I'm not letting you put any underpants on.”  
  
“Oh!” Adam gasps in shock and rage, his cheeks flushing with the indignity of it. While he's regrouping from the shock of being flung around and shouted at, Kris pushes him down onto the bed and yanks the corset up around his waist.  
  
“Stand,” he orders, and Adam does, unthinkingly obedient. “Hold the bedpost, like a good girl,” Kris taunts, and Adam nearly chokes with shock and humiliation. Kris laces him into the corset, tight enough to hurt, his ribs protesting painfully when Kris yanks a little too hard.  
  
“Oh—oh Kris, please, I haven't—haven't worn one since we got the baby!” Adam begs, and when he looks over his shoulder at Kris, he yelps, the noise cut off by another vicious tug at the laces and a sickening pop as Kris cracks one of Adam's ribs. Adam lets out a breathy scream, but the corset is laced tight enough it keeps him from feeling too much pain. Adam leans against the bedpost, knuckles white with how tight he's gripping it, as Kris ties off the laces and smacks Adam on the bare ass. Adam whimpers a little, but he's gone all numb from confusion, and his head is spinning. He presses his palms to his cheeks, and goes where Kris tells him to, lets himself be wrapped into the silk kimono, everything tucked and tied and folded into place. It's freeing and restricting all at once, and Adam doesn't understand, he doesn't _understand_.  
  
“ There,” Kris says, when Adam's dressed. “Now sit there.” He points to Adam's dressing table, and Adam sits on the little stool they bought in France and lets Kris paint his face. When he looks in the mirror again, his eyes are made up to look Chinese, the sweeping lines of eyeliner highlighting the blue of his eyes, smoky powder smudged along his eyelids and just below his eyebrows, his cheeks pinked, his lips rouged. He shivers, knows that at least two of the party guests will call him a whore behind his back. Part of him can't wait to cause such scandal, and another part of him is screaming at him to apologize and mean it, to tell Kris he'll stay home and do whatever Kris wants if it means he doesn't have to subject himself to the gossip and be humiliated by Allison and David.  
  
Kris combs Adam's hair across his face, so he looks even more feminine and exotic, then stalks to Adam's jewelry case and digs through it until he finds the necklace with the three yellow diamonds set in silver, and fastens it around Adam's neck. The necklace is heavy, and always makes Adam think of a collar, and he doesn't wear it very often, only when the rest of his clothes allow for it to be partly hidden, but with the kimono, there's no hiding the gaudy jewelry. Adam's breath is fast and shallow, and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks that surely Kris must hear it, but Kris doesn't say anything, just drags Adam down to the carriage and escorts him to the Cook's door.  
  
They're late, and Adam prays they'll be turned away when they arrive, but Allison herself opens the door, and smiles wide at Adam, despite his painted face and inappropriate clothes.  
  
“Oh, Adam!” she cries. “David and I are so glad you could come! And Kristopher, of course.”  
  
Adam is about to protest that he can't stay, really, when Kris' hand settles in the small of his back. “Unfortunately, Allison, Adam's the only one who can stay,” he says. “I've got some unexpected and pressing business to attend.”  
  
“I'll be sure to send some cake home with Adam for you,” Allison promises, and Adam wants to die, wants to sink into the floor and hope no one notices his shame. Instead he holds his head high, ignores the gossip, and drinks too much.  
  
David compliments him on his outfit, and Allison praises his bravery for wearing something so extraordinary in public. Adam has another drink and prays for the night to be over.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam arrives home, late and tired and beginning to feel his cracked rib. His breath is shallower than ever, and instead of attempt the stairs, he swerves into the study and takes down Kris' brandy from the top shelf. He pours himself a tumbler full, then puts the bottle away and carries the glass with him, his legs unsteady.  
  
Kris is waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Adam knocks back the brandy in one long drink, then sets the tumbler on the hall table. “Are you satisfied?” he demands.  
  
“With what?” Kris asks.  
  
“Me?” Adam cries, then sucks in a breath. “Have you humiliated me enough yet?”  
  
Kris doesn't answer, and Adam stalks up the stairs, ignoring his screaming lungs and his shaky legs as long as he can. He stops a few steps below Kris and stares at him, eye-to-eye. Kris stares back, placid and calm, and Adam screeches in frustration and swings his arm to slap Kris across the face. Kris catches his hand easily, then twists around and pushes down and Adam finds himself on his back on the landing, his breath coming in sobs around the pain in his chest and the humiliated feeling he's been battling off all night. His pride can't take this. He moves to get up, but Kris straddles his body, sitting on his thighs and pushing down on his chest, making him gasp for air.  
  
“Please,” Adam whispers when he can draw enough air to speak again. He's humiliated and aching with arousal and he doesn't know why the two emotions seem to go hand-in-hand, doesn't want to quiver with need.  
  
“Please?” Kris echoes.  
  
“Please, Kris, I—I don't—I mean . . .” Adam flushes again, for what seems like the thousandth time that night, and Kris leans down and kisses him, hard and desperate and demanding. His tongue pushes into Adam's mouth, and Adam lies there and opens his mouth and sucks on Kris' tongue and wonders vaguely if he's a bad person for liking this.  
  
Kris keeps one hand on Adam's chest and uses the other to disrobe him, right there on the landing where anyone could see, and Adam shivers and shakes and opens his legs when Kris pushes between them, and makes muted, desperate noises that make him blush harder than even the humiliating night at the party had. Kris takes him right there on the stairs, makes him beg for it, and then when he's finished, and Adam has spent himself as well, pushes fingers inside Adam and presses down on his chest at the same time, and Adam twists and squeals and claws at the expensive French carpet beneath him, pain and pleasure and too-much coursing through his veins.  
  
Adam goes where Kris wants him, stands, carries his wrinkled and dirtied clothes in his arms as Kris leads him to Kris' bedroom, drops the clothing in a pile and doesn't even care that the precious silk will probably be ruined by the next morning, just walks to Kris' bed and lays himself out on it when he's told to, lets Kris hold him and touch him and push fingers into him over and over and over, until the next time Kris takes him it's easy and smooth and makes Adam shiver in delight instead of in that strange blend of hurt and pleased.  
  
They kiss again, when Kris has taken him the second time, lazy and slow, and Adam feels like he's drifting and disconnected, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, the corset is gone and he's on his stomach, Kris behind him, pushing into him and taking him again, oh god, _again_ , and whispering beautiful, terrible, wonderful things in Adam's ear, things like _deserved what you got tonight_ and _you'll wear the corset every day for a month, tell your maid_ and _gonna keep you like this forever, laced up and full of me_ and Adam shudders and moans and lets himself be taken and chokes in shock when he spends again before Kris is even finished.  
  
All the next day, he feels sated and flushed and pleased with himself and happy, even though he doesn't know why. Kris comes to Adam's room and laces him up again himself, and runs soothing, meticulous fingers down Adam's spine, and the corset isn't as tight as yesterday, but Adam still feels the rib every time he takes a breath, but somehow it doesn't matter that it hurts, it only makes it better.


End file.
